I’ve been wondering how this all fits together. Much like a recipe would. You have to have the right ingredients; otherwise the half-baked muffin will leave you wondering whether you managed to put one teaspoon, or one tablespoon.
I’ve never written about Korea…
…Mostly because that wasn’t my work assignment. I went there to teach. As did all the lemons that went with me. We always signed up to the same summer (or winter) camp In our early twenties, to fund our otherwise measly existence back in Cape Town for the rest of the year. English camps were always a month long. And we worked morning ‘till night, teaching little South Koreans, who should’ve (in retrospect) actually been spending their summer playing outside. But I was young at the time, without much of an opinion about anything of significance. So I did my job, ate my rice- and said yes to whatever my superior wanted.
Political Popcorn.
I guess it would be weird not to say something about yesterday’s elections.
They did, after all, mark 30 years since true democracy. And like most peoples’
experience of living in South Africa, everyone’s experience of yesterday was
different. For some, it was violence to the point where they couldn’t vote. For
others, it was catching up with neighbours, and ordering Butlers in the queue.
And I honestly don’t have an opinion on how the same thing can be so different,
to the point of seeming grossly unfair,
Vanning it to Knysna.
The whole idea was to see if we could do this for two months, in the States. And so we decided to try local first. Roads and valleys we knew well: towns and campsites familiar to the eye.
Apricot Yoga
Much of the yoga experience revolves around the power of observation. ‘Observe your breathing in, the way the air touches your left nostril, the way your chest rises’. During meal times, we would observe how certain tastes linger longer than others and the necessity of enjoying the bite you chew rather than groveling quickly for the next. Yoga is about hearing sounds in the room, those closest to you, and then others that hit the airwaves just outside your immediate surroundings.
Zimbabwe, Introducing: Fresh Air
So whats the point then? Well,I suppose not everything is a success story- especially in Zim (lets be honest). Her people and land are beautiful, but she is scarred and possibly forever changed. But who can love the scars, you may ask. My best guess: those who are able to look beyond that which meets the eye. Who sees the heart of the land which reflects itself in her people: humble and kind, but not broken.
!Khwa ttu: Flame Rekindled
‘In the end we will conserve only what we love, love only what we understand, and understand only what we are taught.’
The Northern Cape- of Nothing Much!
There’s nothing (much) happening in the Northern Cape. And this article is about the Northern Cape. There are no bright lights and swag. Your tea will not be brought at the same time as your cake, so please stop asking! And you will find mosquitoes in Carnarveron. Many. Like tiny drones hiding to ambush you upon the closing of the weary eye,
Mosi-Oa-Tunya‘The Smoke that Thunders’
According to some authors, Livingstone ‘epitomised the spirit of colonial exploration’ as he spent a total of 33 years traversing the African continent preaching the Word of Christianity, fighting slavery and bringing the beauty of Africa to the attention of the West. So whilst he wasn’t the first person to discover the Falls, and not necessarily even the first European person, the discovery was pinned onto Livingstone simply because he was the first to bring it to the attention of the Western World!
Raft over the River ‘Kwai’
As I clung onto the side of the boat, I thought the journalist from Getaway magazine had done (literally) just that and was trapped beneath the boat (which had tilted to a 90degree angle and was now stuck between a rock and the mighty waters of the Zambezi). The rest of us clung to the raft like monkeys on a swaying branch, and I remember thinking that if I let go, things may not end so well.
An analysis of Wonder.
For about two weeks after my return, one of the only answers I could give about my trip was that it was hot. It’s the truth, and if you were to look at a map you would notice that Malaysiais approximately two degrees north of the Equator. Humid too: which seemed to stunt. My. Thoughts…and promote a general sense of laziness, especially when required to walk anywhere. It’s surprising how a physical feeling or sensation will be the one that your memory records as having the most significance. Now though, sitting in an air-conditioned office, Malaysia is no longer hot. A more apt definition would be ‘tropically wonderful’.